Dragon Age:The Forging of the Champion
by InheritanceConfessor2011
Summary: Dragon Age: The Forging of the Champion - Rate M - Garrett Hawk is saved by the Legendary Flemeth, who unexpectedly sets him the important task of protecting her daughter whilst she travels with the warden to end the blight. Chapter 2: The Call to Arms
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do own Dragon Age, or Bioware. Just writing for the enjoyable and challenge!**

**Rate M for Mature**

**Dragon Age: The Forging of the Champion**

**Chapter 1: Flemeth's Deal**

Twisting his wooden staff in his hands as he effortlessly countered the darkspawn downward slash with the side of his staff, the harden oak redirecting the slashing motion away from him, as he reached out with his bare hand unleashing a devastating barrage of murderous green lighting at an charging group of twenty plus dark spawn. The highly destructive magical energies rippling the monstrous foul smelling beasts part under the force, whilst cooking the others alive inside their twisted metal armour, as the smell of burnt flesh fill the air, the dead bodies twitching uncontrollably on the stone floor even as he side step another stab by spear willing darkspawn, prior to summoning an magical shield around him to protect himself from flight of arrows.

Channelling the magical energies flowing through his body into his staff, the blue orb on the staff's tip glowing red as the energy gather in, just before a huge red fire ball erupted from the unassuming orb, the fire ball shooting across the open ground towards the distance darkspawn archers. The dark archers never stood a chance, as the fire ball exploded, bathing them in magical fire, the cursed archers dropping dead, whilst he smashed another dark spawn head open with end of his staff.

He had been fighting the darkspawn on and off for hours, defending himself from the advancing horde of twisted creatures. The Dark spawn had caught up with him and his family just a couple hours after they their home in Lothering, as the four of them travelled along the main road to Redcliffe, along with the other fleeing inhabitants of Lothering. Initially the darkspawn numbers had been small, just a hand full of scouts, making them easily to manageable and dispatch to the next life with a quick burst of magic, however as time passed their numbers steadily grew, moving from hand full of scouts to a small army.

Realizing the danger they were in, he had made the difficult but selfless choice to stay behind and try to hold them off at river crossing, giving his family and the other fleeing people of Lothering time they need to make it to safety, leaving his younger brother Carver in charge of the family, as he batted another killing trust to one side, before counter attacking.

Killing another darkspawn with a blast of magic, even as he slashed his staff through the foul smelling air, sending out a wave of compressed white energy across the bridge, knocking dozens of the twisted creatures off the bridge into the fast running river below, and their certain deaths. It had been a difficult choice to made, but he knew deep down it had been the right one; and he privately hoped he would be remember well for his sacrifice despite being a prostate mage.

He also knew that he was right, he had told his family that the main road was too dangerous, to deadly, to open to darkspawn attack, and they should instead take their chances going through the wild, but his mother and brother had overruled him. However is moment of distraction cost him as a pair of arrows pieced his left shoulder, as pain suddenly rushed through his body, even as he instinctively lashed out at the archers responsible for his wounds. At that moment his world seemed to narrow, the only thing what mattered was the bridge, as he grabbed the barded arrows embedded in his shoulder, before forcefully pulling them out, taking some of his own flesh with him, causing him to fall to one knee in shock.

He was never good at healing magics; he could heal a bruise, a cut, but nothing like this, his own magical abilities lay in the art of elemental magics, and force magics, rather than healing, unlike his dear lovable sister Bethany who was a natural born healer. As his life blood started to leave him and soak his battered clothes, his mind coming more into focus through the burning pain whilst he gathered the magical energies within him, determined to go out with one big spell to claim as many dark spawn as possible before finally falling to his wounds.

The voices of the fade grew steadily louder, as he pull upon more and more magic, as the demons of the fade started offering to share their power, their knowledge in exchange for him being their host as magic continued to flow through him, his body starting to shake from shock of his wound and the magical energies passing through him. He ignored their pitiful deals, as he mentally blocked out their increasing loud voices in favour of concentrating on his task, his purpose.

Time seemed to slow down as the cursed darkspawn charged him, sensing his weakness, their numbers vast and uncountable, but he knew what to do, what need to be done as he drew on more and more magic within him. Even using his own weaken body as fuel for the spell just as another arrow pieced his left hip, the pain fuelling his resolve, before channelling all his remaining energy into his staff, as the orb glowed bright white at the barely contained energy within.

"**You shell not pass!" **he shouted in one final act of defiance to the murderous horde, his staff spinning his hands as he slammed the tip of his staff into the stone bridge, the crystal orb breaking unleashing the destructive magical energies within, as the bridge stones exploded around him, the bridge shaking violently beneath his feet, rippling itself apart, as first stones fell away, as chain reaction followed.

Watching with cold indifference as his death rapidly approached, his body numb, empty, cold, as the magic left him, the wave of magical energy claiming the bridge for itself as stone beneath his feet shacked themselves loose, before suddenly giving away beneath him, as he fell into cold rushing water below him, as hundreds of dark spawn quickly joined.

His last thought before finally allowing the rapidly approaching darkness to claim him for next life was, 'I told you so.'

**Dragon Age**

**Korcari Wilds**

His dreams shifted, as the spirits of the fade called upon him, offering their twisted deals and bargains of power in exchange for his allegiance, which he stubbornly refused, knowing that deals with demons were loaded, primed like traps. Slowly the dreams started to faded, the voices of the spirits growing steadily quieter, as he was slowly pulled back to the waking world, as he registered noise with his ears, the familiar sound of footsteps on old wooden pranks. Willing himself to wake up, but finding himself too weak to open his heavy eyes, he allowed himself to embrace the comforting darkness once again. He couldn't tell how much time pass as he drifted in darkness, but he could tell he was getting slowly stronger, as he finally managed to opened his heavy eyes, he saw an old women leaning over him, her hair was pure white and reach belong her shoulders however her most distinctive feature was her sharp golden eyes, that seemed to glow with power and wisdom, telling him she was a witch like his dear sister was.

Noticing he was a wake, her usual golden eyes meet his own; he was just about to ask a question but she placed a hand on his forehead. "Sleep child, sleep, your questions can wait," the witch voiced, his eyes suddenly feeling heavy as he once again returned to the realm of dreams.

The dreams touched against his mind, as they twisted and turned, how his sister face swapped with his mothers, or how the dog could suddenly talk, or the cheese suddenly growing 8 legs like a spider, but slowly his usual dreams began to faded, as his conscious mind returned to his aching body, but he could free his magic pulsing away weakly in his veins, like a injured beast, and hear the beat of his heart in his ears.

Opening his heavy eyes as he looked up at the old wood rafters of the ceiling, before he turned his head to look around and get his bearing. He quickly realized he was in a small house; his bed was next to a small fireplace with an iron cooking pot next to it. He tried to move his legs, but they ached in protest, as he remembered the arrow he took to his left hip, as he gave an annoyed groan at his weakness. Knowing that there was not much he could do in his current state but lie there and wait for the witch to return, as dozens of questions ran through his restless mind. 'Was his family ok? What happened, how did he get here? Where is here? Who was his carer? How long had he been out cold?' were but a few questions waiting eagerly on his tongue.

Pulling the worn, itchy bed sheets off him to check on his aching wounds, he look down at his pale, thin body, he immediately noticed a large jagged scar on his shoulder from where he torn the arrows out, and a lesser scar on his pale aching hip.

"So you are awake then child," the elderly witch voiced, as she moved backed into them room, and over towards the fireplace with small stack of wood. Her clothes were old, and worn, the colour faded with aged, but they were clean, cleaner than the room he was in anyways.

Tracking the witch the best he could, but deciding it would be for the best if he was respectful around the witch that had saved his life. "Yes, thank you for treating my wounds," he voiced.

"And for saving your life," she added, her voice having hint of mocking quality to it, as she threw couple logs into the fire before hobbling towards her seat.

"That to," he conceded, with slight bow of his head, despite his lying down position. "Thank you for that."

"Aww manners, how refreshingly civilized, most people when they come to visit little old me just kick down the door," the witch said with an amused smirk.

"What can I say, my mother and father taught me to respect my elders," he voiced, hoping to keep the witch in good mood, as she nodded in approval. "So where are we exactly?"

"The Korcari Wilds," she replied, before lowering herself into a seat opposite him.

Considering the information for a bit, as he suddenly realized he was on other side of Lothering, and north of Ostagar, and good week's walk away from Redcliffe. "Can I ask for your name? Or should I just call you madam? It just seems rude of me not to know the name of one who saved my life."

The smile reappear on her lips, as her golden eyes looked at him, examining him, judging him, before offering her name."My name is Flemeth," causing him to blink in shock at meeting the famous apostate witch, "Or as some would call me, _the _Witch of the Wilds, or the old hag that talks too much."

"_The_ Flemeth? The one from the legends?" he asked, having heard many tales about the legendary witch who lurked the wilds as a kid.

"The one and the same," she offered with predatorily smile, as he resisted the urge to shudder.

"Well _you_ look good for 200 year old witch," he offered with grin, trying to add some rumour to situation as she gave him a barking like laugh at the compliment.

"Such a charmer," she remarked with a smile, "Far better than the bandits and templar's that just knock down my door."

"Thank you, Garrett Hawk by the way," he offered in greetings to his host, from the bed.

"I know who you are, your Malcolm's son, you have a younger sister called Bethany, and a brother called Carver," Flemeth voiced with smug smile.

"You knew my father?" he asked, not believing what he was hearing.

"Yes, He stumble across my cabin one day many years ago whilst out hunting for food," Flemeth offered. "Nice man, well mannered, even offered to fix the roof for me."

Smiling at Flemeth's remarks as he thought more about his long dead father, whilst still fighting the disbelief he was feeling at the unfolding encounter. "So how long have I been unconscious?"

"Just under a week," Flemeth replied whilst getting up from her seat, to grab some vegetables and herbs from old shelf.

"A week?" he asked in state of disbelief, finding it hard to believe that he been out-cold for whole week.

"Your wounds were extremely serious child, even for my extensive understanding of the healing arts, if anyone else had attempted to heal you, you would already be with the marker. That what happens when you use our own body and blood to fuel a spell," Flemeth explained as she put the ingredients into the iron cooking pot. "When I saved you, you were almost dead, a dry husk, so be carefully next time you use blood magic in such a way. It will still be several days until your body recovers and you can stand, and your ability to manipulate magic returns."

"I didn't realize that I was using blood magic," he defended, understanding now why he felt so empty and tired.

"Now you do, blood magic always comes at price on one's body. That's why most blood mages prefer to use other people's blood to fuel their spells rather than their using their own," Flemeth advised as she retook her seat. "Ignorance is deadly when it comes to magic."

Nodding his head in agreement to the statement, "Thank you for the advice, I'll think on it," he replied as he silently considered Flemeth's words. Looking back at his hostess, "Do you happen to know of the city of Redchiffe, is it safe from the horde?"

"It's as safe as any place can be in these dangerous times," Flemeth answered cryptically with a smirk, before adding. "But with the destruction of the main bridge leading to the town, the main darkspawn horde has moved further east, so your family is safe for now, at least from the horde that is."

Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, hopefully his family had successfully got passage on a boat to Kirkwall and were now safe some the blight. "That's good," he admitted, before he turned back to face the legendary prostate witch. "So, what is the payment you desire, if the stories about you are true, whenever you save someone you ask them to complete a task for you in payment, to clear their debt," his statement causing Flemeth smirked.

"That is one story with some truth to it," she admitted with sly grin, before stirring the soup.

Waiting patiently for Flemeth to name her price, "My errand is twofold, first and foremost after you have recovered from your injuries you will seek out the grey wardens, and assist them in defeating this cursed blight. My second task is that you will protect an item I'll give you, and if it ever heats up you will take it to Dalish tribe that moves across the lands north of the City of Kirkwall and give it to their Keeper," Flemeth listed, her golden eyes watching him.

Nodding his head in agreement to her terms, but his personal curiosity getting the better of him now that Flemeth was talking, "I have to say, that is more than I expected, most stories tell of you asking people to correct rare or unique ingredients for you from distance lands, so why do you want me to help the grey wardens in their fight against the Blight?"

Several moments pasted before she gave him an answer, "Because the Blight is threat to everyone, including me, and my _only_ daughter travels amongst them, aiding them in their difficult task. And I desire her to live through the ordeal intact and whole. You are a capable mage, whose power is growing, maturing, that would prove an invaluable addition to their noble quest to end the Blight."

Nodding his head in understanding, Flemeth was simply being a mother looking out for her daughter's health. "What should I do if they refuse my offer of assistance?" he asked as he thought more about Flemeth's words.

"Then shadow them, watch them, and assist them discreetly in their journey, in their task," Flemeth stated, as she stirred the boiling mixture. "But I expect they will readily accept your offer of aid, if they believe you'll be of assistance rather than a burden. So make a big bold flashy entrance to impress their small, simple minds. Plus an acquaintance of yours from Lothering now travels with them, offering her own aid in their challenging task. Undoubtedly she will support the idea of you assisting them."

Considering his upcoming task, he thought over the difficulties he would face in the upcoming days, but found comfort in the fact he had an acquaintance already travelling with the grey warden, before asking another all important question. "Should I tell them _you_ sent me?"

Flemeth reply was quick, and firm, and very much to the point. "No, they _must_ not know of my involvement, nor should my daughter either. My daughter is prideful and head strong, she will not like the idea I'm watching her," as she gave him a stern look.

"It's same with my younger brother Carver," he agreed, understanding her reasoning since he did same with his younger brother Carver at times. "However, I can see one small problem, how do you suggest I find them? They could be anywhere; I could spend years searching for them."

"Indeed that would be a _minor _problem, but I have already taken that into account for you," the aged witch voiced with just a hint of smugness. "When you are fully healed, and your magic has returned, I'll teach you how to shape shift into a bird, maybe even a Hawk?" as his interest jumped at idea. "Allowing you to cover hundreds of leagues in a single day. When you would just have to find a lead, and track them from the sky, or just wait for them to arrive. Your choice."

"Sounds like a plan," he admitted, causing Flemeth to give him a barking like laugh, as another thought jumped to his uneasily mind. "Did you happen to recover my staff? Or any of my other belongings when you saved me?"

"No," Flemeth answered, as he gave a disappointed sigh, since the staff had been given to him by his own father as a coming of age gift at the tender age of 12. "Remember staffs are just a tool, just like armour there are times they need to be replaced with a better one," before severing the stew into a wooden bowl and passing it to him with a matching wooden spoon, "But enough questions, save your strength, and eat your stew."

"Yes Madam, thank you for the stew," he chipped back, but feeling the loss of his staff.

"Ah manners, how refreshing," she muttered once again.

The next week passed quickly for him, as he rested and recovered his physical and magical strength under Flemeth's care, to the point he was walking around the house excising his stiff joints, and stretching out his limp, much to Flemeth amusement.

Flemeth's humble house was located in middle of a dark swamp on a small island in the very centre, much to his own amusement since he would have never have guessed the powerful witch from the stories would live in such a basic manor. Most stories he heard had her living high in the mountains in massive stone keep, guarded by dark undead spirits and twisted corrupted man servants ready to sate her lust, which gave both of them a good chuckle around the fire. To help earn his keep around the small house, that was better describe as a hunting shack, whilst Flemeth taught him the magical secrets of how to shape shift. He would often venture out into the neighbouring woods and return with some new fire wood, or some fleshy killed game and herbs, even going as far as making a stew one night.

He learnt one interesting fact, that Flemeth was the better cook out of two of them, then again, he never could cook.

He also started making repairs to the witch's modest house, much to Flemeth's growing amusement at his work ethic of keeping active. "To be young again, to be so full of energy and life," she voiced one day with hint of regret as he worked away on the aging roof, sealing up the numerous leaks in the aging structure.

But as each day steadily passed, he knew his time with Flemeth was drawing to close, as his magic got stronger and stronger, and his ability to wield magic within him returned with a vengeance, as he slowly learned how to shape shift into hawk. Then it finally happened, his body began changed and shift, his eyesight becoming sharper, more focus, his body compressing into smaller physical shell, as his arms turned into wings, as his magic seemed to purr in his veins, singing with power, even as Flemeth smirked down at him like a proud teacher. "Well done child," she voiced with praise. "Now release the magic and turn back."

Releasing his hold on the natural magic as his body slowly turned back to his human form, his limps aching and protesting, even as he looked up at Flemeth, his teacher, who was smiling down at him. "Now you are truly a Hawk, both in name and body," she declared from her spot on three legged wooden stool. "You have now taken _your _first step into wider world child, in time and training you will unlock more forms of natural magic that have been long forgotten by the wider world. Only a few Danish mages know of them, of their power nowadays and they will jealously guard this knowledge from the rest of the world. Soon the earth beneath your feet will obey your call, bend to your will and desire," as he suddenly felt a rush of power at Flemeth's words. "But remember nature is harsh and vicious, just as much as it is nurturing, so tread carefully, and stay in balance, otherwise it will consume you."

Bowing his head in sign of respect, "I understand, thank you for teaching me," he replied.

"Do you? Even I don't fully understand her, despite my old age," Flemeth challenged, her smile implying a secret joke, only known to herself.

"You know what I mean," he voiced, as the old witch smirked back.

"Now practise the skill, and learn how to fly like a _true_ hawk, young Garrett. You _will_ leave tomorrow," she stated before hobbling back to her home, as his mind turned to his upcoming adventure.

Laying down on his back, the scent of grass and wild flowers in air relaxing his restless mind, as his troubled thoughts turned back to his family, to Carver, Bethany, and his aging mother, as his heart ached with longing, wanting to see the trio again. He just hoped they were safe, and were doing well wherever they were in the world, and would understand why he had agreed to Flemeth request to assist the grey wardens in fighting the Blight. After all, it would be foolish to cross the legendary prostate, and the Blight was a danger to all, and had to be ended as soon as possible. Plus a part of him longed for adventure, to be free from the burdens of protecting his family, to learn new magics and see the wider world. Yes, it was tad selfish of him wanting to pass on the heavy burden on to his younger, head strong brother, but he had been head of family for last 7 years since his father death, and had put his own desires on hold to provide for his family.

Then his brother Carver in recent years had grown resentful, challenging his discussions and authority at every turn, thinking he knew better, and now it was time for his brother to suddenly have learn how to shoulder the heavy burden of responsibility.

Smiling as he got back to his feet, his mind turning back to the task at hand, as the newly awaken natural magic stirred within him as he started too shifted back into a hawk.

He didn't know what the days ahead held for him, he didn't know if he would live or die, but he did know he would be challenged and pushed to his limit, but he welcomed the challenged, the test. Thinking about all the great adventure tales he heard as youngster that had captured his young imagination, how the heroes were always victorious despite the terrible odds, despite the pain, and how they found their great loves. 'Maybe I'll find my great love?' he thought, finding the idea stirred his excitement and eagerness to go further before flapping his wings, trying to fly, but finding the moment difficult and awkward.

The rest of the day merged into a single memory, as he worked himself to the point of exhaustion trying to fully master his ability to fly, but by next morning when it was finally time for him to leave, his limbs fully recovered with a good night's rest and good meal in his stomach, he was confidence in his ability to fly.

"Now it's time for you to leave and begin your journey," Flemeth declared as the pair of them stood in the doorway, before holding out a odd amulet in the palm of her aged hand. The strange amulet had a dark twisted bone as it centre piece, the bone itself was cover in many unfamiliar runes, with a small silver chain covered with odd rune marking running through a small hole burrowed through the tip of the bone. "Take this, remember and our deal, if and when this amulet warms up you are to take this to the keeper of dalish elf North of the city of Kirkwall," as he took the usual amulet from her hand, feeling the raw magical power barely contained within, which caused his own magic to stir.

Nodding his head at the instructions, "Yes, I understand, the Dalish elves north of Kirkwall, but was it?" he asked, his personal curiosity getting the better of him, as he carefully placed the amulet around his neck.

"Does it matter what it is? You have already agreed to be its carrier and protector," she voiced firmly, reminding him of their earlier agreement, whilst her powerful golden eyes seemed to examine him again, judging him. "But if it makes you feel better it's a powerful historical relic I borrowed from the Dalish some years ago to study. However if your need is truly great, you can draw on the energies within, but do not rely on it to see you through the dangers ahead of you. Use your own power and skill, otherwise your own powers will never, if you solely rely on this old trinket."

Accepting her advice, but he privately expected there was more to this power amulet than Flemeth was telling him, but it did not matter, he had already agreed to be its carrier, the delivery boy. "What should I do if this amulet suddenly heats up whilst I'm helping the warden against the Blight?" he asked, as he felt the powerful amulet resting against his against his chest.

Several long minutes passed as Flemeth seemed to consider the point, before finally answering him. "The blight is the bigger issue, but complete the delivery of the amulet as soon as possible," her golden eyes meeting his brown. "If you can't successfully deliver the amulet, then arrange for someone you deeply trust to do so in your place."

"It shell be done," he replied formerly, with firm nod of his head. "Thank you once again for your care and hospitality Madam."

A mused smile grew on her worn features at his words, as her free hand suddenly disappeared from sight before revealing a staff. "Take this as well," she stated, pressing a plain looking staff into his hands. "It's not as good as your old one, but it will sever you well enough until you can make another one more fitting to serve you," as she forcefully pushed him out of the doorway. "I would head south to Ostagar now; there _you_ will find the gold you need to equip yourself for the journey ahead. One final piece of advice, the hearts of men are govern by desire, and are easily corrupted, do not allow your own desires and needs to cloud your judgement in the dark days ahead, stay focus on the bigger picture," before suddenly closing the door on him.

Stunned at the abrupt dismissal, it took him moment to recover his wits as he respectfully span the basic staff in his hands, finding it far lighter than his old staff, but far less responsive to his own magic. It will have to do,' he noted even as he looked towards the cloudily sky, towards his uncertain future, even as his body started shifting into a Hawk as his magic purred.

Flapping his wings he slowly took to the air, before finally turning south to Ostagar to begin his quest.

**End of Chapter **

What do you think of the First chapter? Please Review since first DA fic.

Also need a Beta for this Story - Unsure I'll continue this otherwise


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do own Dragon Age, or Bioware. Just writing for the enjoyable and challenge!**

**Rate M for Mature**

**Dragon Age: The Forging of the Champion**

**Chapter 2: The Call to Arms**

The flight south to Ostagar had been surprising relaxing, as he enjoyed the experience of being able to look down upon the world below, like a god watching from the heavens, as he viewed the world with new eyes, and understanding of its beauty.

The whole experience made him feel powerful, god like, and he couldn't wait to share the skill with his younger sister Bethany as soon as he found his family again. Whilst sharing such a wonderful skill would surly fuel the jealously within his younger brother, the ability to shape shift into an animal at will could someday help his sister, if she ever had to flee for her life.

He swooped confidently down to the ancient battered ruins of once mighty fortress of Ostagar, his descent sending several smaller birds into the wind as he gracefully land on rim of an ancient tower. His enhance eyes took in the morbid scene below him, of the tens of thousands of bodies shattered around the valley basin, and the crumbling ruins of the fortress. Then there was the rotting corpses impaled on crude spikes, their faces twisted in pain, as crows picked out their eyes like juicy treats, as salvagers picked at corpses, tearing open stomachs, as rats grew fat devouring the guts of the fallen men and women alike, causing his stomach to rebel at the sight, at the twist nature of the scene being played out below him.

'Why had he come here?' He asked himself, knowing the hellish scene below him would haunt his dreams for many days to come, and possibly years into the future.

'I came here because of Flemeth,' he reminded himself, as he abruptly realized the extent of the witch's manipulations.

She wanted him to see this, to see all the death, to see all the destruction, to understand the true danger the darkspawn and the blight represented to the world, to strengthen his resolve to fight the cursed blight to the bitter end. It also taught him another humbling little fact, death treated everyone the same, no matter their status and rank.

He looked back down at the cursed sight below him, at the countless dead bodies littering the ground, willing himself to remember his nightmarish scene in the days to come, as he felt his resolve to defeat the blight strengthen, before concluding it was time to leave. He calmly spread his brown wings to catch the cycling air, eager to back to the sky and leave this place of death behind him, but he stopped himself at the sight of armoured men moving through one area of the ruins.

He watched as they quickly stripped the dead bodies for their valuables before carelessly tossing them into a growing pile of flesh and bone, whilst throwing the recovered armour and weapons into one set of large ox pulled wagons, and the rest of the valuable items into another smaller wagon, or into their own back pockets.

His anger stirred at the clear disrespect the men held for the dead, as they stripped more and more bodies of their belongs before they too were haphazardly hurl into the growing piles of fresh.

Yes, he was here to loot some coin and wealth too for the journey ahead, but he would have been far more respectful to the dead, unlike the men below him as he muttered a quick pray of protection.

It was then he heard the first whispers of demons and the angry resentful spirits hindering in this place of death, and realized just how thin the veil between the worlds was with so much death in one place.

Normally the veil between the worlds was strong and whole, keeping other worldly spirits at bay, preventing them from entering the world of living without outside assistance of a mage or a witch, and that was why they were fear so much by the common man, and why evil spirits sort mages out.

But with so much unnatural death and suffering in one place, the veil separating the worlds had been majorly weaken.

It would be so simple to reanimate some of the dead and drive the looters from his place, but he resisted the impulse, and remembered his training. It took him quite a few minutes to clear his mind, as he took several calming breaths through his sharp beak as he gradually brought his anger under control. His thoughts turned back to the journey a head, as the harsh realization dawn on him he would need gold for his travels, as he looked down at the bodies below. 'I better get on with it then,' deciding to get on with this grim, but necessary task of looting some remains. He launched himself into the air, as he allowed himself to drift down to the burnt out encampment below.

Upon changing back to his normal self, the foul rotting smell of decomposing corpses assaulted his nose, making his stomach twist and churn in disgust, as he saw the swarm of flies hovering around the bodies, as they crawled their way into open mouths to lay their eggs.

'I can't believe I'm about to do this,' he mentally ranted as he kneel down and started searching the dead first body, as flies erupted from the corpse.

Instinctively he batted the flies away with his free hand, before quickly moving on to search a different corpse that seemed to be in better shape than the rest. It didn't take him long to search the first body, he managed to find some gold and silver coins for his troubles, as well silver bracelet, but he left the gold wedding ring in place, since it didn't feel right to take such an item, before he moved onto the next body. It was grim, dirty, and very much unpleasant task, one that made he wanted to scrub himself clean, but after half an hour of looting he had recovered quite bit of wealth from the dead bodies.

Regrettably, his actions didn't go unnoticed as several armoured men descend upon him. "Well men, what do we have here?" the leader spoke from horseback, his voice mocking, that matched the man's gruel smile. The man was large, bulky, and dirty, his blonde hair unkempt, that just spoke to the world that the man was thug, a bully, despite his fancy plate armour.

"Looks like a looter captain," another man offered, as he started to gather the magical energies within him to defend himself.

"Indeed boys," the captain answered, his gruel smile growing bolder. "And what do we do with looters boys?"

"We hang them sir," another man answered from his left with his own malicious smile.

"That we do boys, that we do," the captain voiced seriously, but his smile never leaving his face. "You got anything to say _looter_?"

"If I am looter, then so are you _boys_," Garrett challenged, trying to talk his way out of the declining situation, whilst wishing he had his staff in his hands.

"We're no looters," one of the men spat, "We were sent by Lord Protector of these lands, Teyrn Loghain to recover anything of use to help protect these lands against the dam blight."

"Don't you mean Lord Betrayer?" Garrett replied quickly. "He abandoned his king on the field of battle, dooming tens of thousands of men and women to die just so he could usurper the throne for himself?"

"He did no such thing, Lord Loghain is an honourable man!" the captain declared, whilst moving his horse aggressively forward. "Those are just vicious, unjust rumours started by the grey wardens to cover up their own murder of the king!"

"If you say so," he replied with indifferent shrug, "But highly unlikely, the warden's sole duty is to destroy the blight, not to seize the throne for themselves."

"Still your tongue, or I'll have it cut out," the captain threatened, his hand resting on his sword pommel.

"Is that before, or after you hang me?" Garrett countered his staff just behind his right foot.

"That's it, hang him boys," the captain declared whilst drawing his own long sword, as the men copied their leader's actions.

As soon has the words left the captain's mouth he unleashed the magical energy he had been gathering inside him, the murderous green arch of lighting erupting from his finger tips, instantly killing the guard closest to him, whilst causing the horse to rear up in panic throwing the captain from his mount.

"Apostate!" one of the remaining men shouted in a panic, as he picked up his staff to do battle.

With his staff in hand, he wasted no time and went straight on the offensive pushing his advantage and effortlessly dispatched another guard with burst of flames from the tip of his staff, turning the unfortunate man into a human candle, as the man's painful screams filled the air.

His own confident smile started to spread across his face, as he smoothly side step the captain's powerful over hand slash, as the man's weight and momentum carried him forward, leaving him open to Garrett's own counter attack.

The captain never got a chance for another attack; as Garrett smoothly swiped the man's legs out with his staff before smashing the man brutally in the back of head in with his staff.

'Should of worn a helmet' he noted drily, as a shard of harden ice erupted from his staff and flew towards the fleeing man, the shard of sharpen ice flew straight and true, and impaled the man in the back, despite the man's protective iron plate armour, killing the man instantly as another wave of men ran into battle with reckless courage, to aid their already fallen comrades as their wild war crys filled the air.

The fight did last long; they were swiftly dispatched despite their superior numbers and protective armour.

Their mistake was simple, but very much a fatal one; they had charged him from solely one direction, without any archers providing covering fire, allowing him to focus all his efforts and energy on putting down a wall of continuous murderous spell fire. Regrettably looking down at the brave men's' broken, scared, twisted, burnt bodies, he remorsefully noted how wasteful their deaths were, how meaningless, since they never stood a chance against him, as he offered a quick pray to maker for their passing as his mother had taught him. But he didn't feel any personal guilty for the unpleasant deed, since it was simply him or them.

'More death,' he noted coldly as he looked around the broken ruins, but at same time feeling more alive than ever at winning the confrontation. He looked back down at the recently killed men, as his eyes noticed their full leather pouches, reminding him of his original purpose for being here, before he started to search their battered bodies for anything of worth.

It quickly became clear to him that the men had been keeping some of the choice bits for themselves, as he put more and more expensive and highly decorate pieces of jewellery on his person, as his leather pouch drew steadily heavier as gold and silver filled the money pouch, forcing to confiscate another one from the recently dead.

However the most valuable finds came from the captain's own body, whose own money pouch seemed to have over hundred gold sovereigns in it alone, as well a nicely crafted dragger on the man hip. The dragger handle was crafted out of pure gold with the sign of the maker carefully engraved into it, with a small but finely crafted diamond at the base of the pommel, with 3 inch sharpen steel blade decorated with tasteful runes that seemed to sparkle in the light.

Carefully handling the deadly blade, he made several quick slashes through the air; follow by a pair of quick jabs before concluding the handle was far too small for his own hands. It suddenly occurred to him that the dragger was probably made for women's hands, and based on symbolism on the dragger itself, it was probably belonged to one of the chantey priestess that accompanied the king's army to Ostagar as means of self protection. Despite the fact that the dragger probably once belong to a priestess; he slipped the lavish dragger into the back of his left boot, deciding it would be fitting gift for his devote mother.

Done with his immediate looting he moved carefully over to frighten horse, his hand resting on horse mane as he tried to calm the mighty steed down. Carefully taking hold of the reins, he led the horse over the rest of the wagons in distance, where he untied the pack animals from their restrains so they could find their own freedom from this place, rather than starving to death in this place waiting to be found.

However he stopped in shock when set his eyes set upon the wagon filled with chests of gold and valuable gems and items of worth, the sight of so much wealth left so exposed stirring his own greed and desire for it like he never known.

Immediately he amount the smaller wagon and eagerly grabbed the reins of the still chained beasts, before driving the pair of large oxen into motion.

As the lumbering wagon slowly left the broken ruins, He already knew he couldn't take all this wealth with him on his journey, since there was simply too much to explain away, as well attract the unwanted attention of thieves, and desperate men and women alike.

But the looted treasure would serve him and his family nicely after the blight was over with, allowing them to live a life full of comfort and style rather than working the fields as simple labourers trying to make ends meet. So the only option left was to hide it, and retrieve it later. So the question was where to hide it?

**Dragon Age**

Carver buried his head in his hands to avoid his mother's angry accusing eyes, as the boat rocked beneath them, as the tiresome waves battered against the ship's wooden hull.

Somehow his mother knew what he had done, how he had got the extra gold needed to pay for their passage to Kirkwall and their food. How he had willingly sold out his twin sister to the templar knights just for couple pieces of gold in payment. He could still see his twin sister shocked, horrified face, as the templar knights roughly seized her in middle of the market place, before dragging her away. He could remember how she had begged him to help her, to save her from the armoured knights, before Bethany finally realized his betrayal, as tears of shame started to run down his cheeks.

'At least she will have food and shelter,' he told himself, trying to lessen the guilt he was feeling for betraying his twin sister to the circle, before his guilt was replaced with anger at being forced into such an necessary act.

'This is all Garrett's fault! Why did he have to play the dam hero!' Carver mentally cursed, as he remembered his older brother's selfish actions at seizing all the glory for himself, for stealing Carver's dream of being a hero, as his anger and jealously stirring in equal measure.

'Dam him, Dam him,' Carver cursed his older brother.

'At least I no longer have to deal with stupid magic anymore,' he noted as smile appear on his lips, besides, he was sure his noble uncle would accept him in Kirkwall with open arms. Then he could finally start making a name for himself as a noble knight without the shadow of his brother and his twin sister hanging over him.

**Dragon Age**

The fortified city of Redcliffe slowly came into sight as he flew through the darkening clouds towards the fortified town, the salty sea breeze filling his sensitive nostrils.

It had taken him just over a day to find a suitable place to stash away the looted gold, with him eventually stashing it in small cave before collapsing the cave's entrance with burst of magic.

From his advantage point high above the city, he could see work teams of men digging additional layers of trenches just outside the city walls, as a makeshift shanty town of discoloured battered tents grew on the open fields just outside the city's main gates. Then there were other teams of men working away on the outer walls, to strengthen the town's defences as catapults and heavy weapons emplacements were hastily constructed on reinforced towers, ready to lob massive stones at any would be attacker.

The castle itself was in an ideal place for defence, sitting perfectly atop of a steep red cliff, with only single bridge leading to it. Within the castle harden walls he saw a large group of men and women drilling and training, their wooden swords smashing against opposing wooden shields has their drill instructors moved between them. His personal opinion of the earl jumped sharply at sight of the extensive preparations being made, it was clear that the earl was taking the task of defending the city and its people seriously.

He slowly drifted down towards the busy docks, before quietly landing behind a old warehouse and swiftly changed back to his normal self behind a stack of wooden crates, before discreetly walking out onto the crowd streets, as captains and their crews unloaded and loaded their precious goods, as fishermen sold their latest catches. The sea front itself was exceptionally busy as men and women alike bantered for safe passage on the ships sailing to the distance Free Marches, his own eyes lingering on the tall ships.

He considered for moment just buying his own safe passage on one of the departing ships and leaving the cursed blight behind, so he could find and reunite with his family. But he dismissed the appealing idea as quickly as it surface. He was quietly confident that Carver would take care of the family in his place, and he had a deal to uphold, as he thought more about Flemeth. But what he needed right now was information on the grey warden, and her possible location, and the best place for that was where tongues were loosest and most unguarded, and that meant finding an tavern of some sorts.

As he walked along the hectic sea front, he made the conscious effort to keep his hand close to his heavy leather coin pouch, whilst his other hand rest on a sword he found amongst the loot treasure whilst hiding it away.

He was no fool, he knew first hand that busy, hectic streets were the types of places pick pockets hanged about, using the crowds as cover as they looked for a suitable mark. Then there were people just desperate enough to try to mug man in the open streets if they believed he had gold on him.

That was the reason why he had chosen to carry a sword with him rather than his staff, since the sword would offer him some protection, and would not attract the kind of negative attention that a staff would. A staff would effectively announce he was mage. And that would unfortunately cause the templar knights station within the city to quickly descent upon him, attempting to either kill him, or imprison him with the circle. Whilst a sword on the other hand was common sight, however his staff was safely hidden away just outside town.

"Hey mate!" he called out to man leaning against a nearby stack of crates, getting the aging man's attention, even as he walked over non-threateningly towards him. "Do know where the best inn is?" he asked the aged dock hand.

"Yea, the White Rose mate, the best whores and drink in town mate," as the man gave him once over. "Just arrived in port sailor?"

Quickly coming up with a believable cover story, "Been in port a couple days mate,_ the_ captain is finally allowing me off the old boat, so all I want to do is to find a place with good drink, and beautiful girls to warm my bed," he lied with his own goofy smile, deciding it would be for the best to play the role of a passing sailor to avoid having to answer problematic questions, as the dock hand grinned back, showing some of his missing teeth.

"Top of the hill, to the left, you can't miss it. Asked for Ruby, she's the best, if you can afford her steep price that is," the man offered with goofy grin.

"Thanks mate," Garrett replied, before following the man's instructions.

It didn't take him long to find the place the dock hand spoke off, since the wooden sign hanging above the inn's entrance with white rose on it made it pretty hard to miss, unless you were blind.

Like most taverns he had visited through the years, the place was full of life and energy despite the dark times, as men and women alike dealt with their fears and worries by taking to drinking cheap ale, as the smell of drink and sex, and flowery scents assaulted his nose. Striding towards the bar area whilst side stepping a pair of merry drunks, he gestured for the barkeep, whilst flashing a silver coin between his fingers to help get the barmen's attention.

"What can I get for you?" the man bar asked, his salt and pepper hair tied back into a crude pony tail even as he dried a mug with a old rag.

"An ale, and some information," he answered as he gave the man the silver coin.

"What is it you want to know?" The bar men replied, as he poured Hawk an ale.

"First, where's the best black smith in town?" he asked as he accepted the mug.

"You'll want old Alfred up at the castle, but I doubt he'll have time to help you, the earl's steward has him working around the clock producing armour and weapons for the town guards," the bar keep replied .

"Fine, what is the news around here? I heard rumours that the grey wardens passed through here," he asked, as he took sip of his drink.

"The wardens left here about 4 days ago, after spending a couple days at the castle speaking with the steward and buying supplies. Rumour has it their looking for Andraste's ashes to cure the earl," the bar keeper offered with shrug, "I don't believe it thou, everyone knows the ashes are just a legend, a fancy story."

"Cure the earl?" he asked, whilst placing his mug back on the counter.

"Yea, the earl was poisoned by a god-dam blood mage just over a week ago, rumour has it Teyrn Loghain sent the assassin," the bar man spat with good dose of anger, making him grateful he had left his staff hidden in the woods just outside of town, under some dense bushes for him to retrieve latter.

"I can believe that, he did betray the king at Ostagar," he offered back. "How much is bed here anyways? I'll be in town for couple days."

"30 silver _mate_, 15 pieces a night," the barmen stated, as he looked towards Hawk's leather money pouch resting on hawk's hip.

"30? Really?" he challenged, finding the prize hard to stomach.

"Yes, 30, no negotiating, the price is final, there are plenty of _other_ people looking for comfortable bed with roof," the man stated.

"Fine, but it better be the best god dam bed in the whole of Radcliffe" he muttered, before opening his pouch and countering out the silver coins.

**Dragon Age**

The tavern came full to life at dusk, as men and women alike flooded into the place of relaxation, as the tavern got far livelier. He had spent most of the day cleaning himself up to make himself presentable again, as he swiftly restored order to his overgrown beard and hair, whilst getting new set of clothes to replaced his own torn and bloody ones. He had also visited the castle's blacksmith to arrange for some new armour to be made, it had cost him fair bit of gold, but he was confident the customised armour would sever him well in the days to come.

The armour itself was light by the standards of armour, an equal mix of metal and black leather, that was more fitting for a rogue combatant than armoured knight, but it suited him perfectly as a mage. The light armoured plates were designed to protect key areas of his body, such as his upper chest whilst the soft leather allowed for freedom of movement, giving good balance between dexterity and protection in combat. After taking three near fatal arrows he had no desire for repeat performance, and he expected the fighting he would face in future would be far more intense than that on the bridge, and the armour he was getting would save his life.

From his seat at the bar, he watched as men and women alike relaxed, as the games of dice became ever more appealing, but a single ginger hair woman caught his attention, her hair was tired back into long ponytail, her features were stern, hard, as she gulped down a mug of ale, with sword and shield resting at her feet.

Discreetly watching the women from across the room, he saw her quickly order another around, as he noticed her tired, haunted eyes that held so much grief and despair, and her dirty clothes.

He knew that look; it was one he had seen far too often of late, as he realized what the woman was trying to do. It was the look that person had when they lost everything of value to them, the look people had when they were self destructing from anger and guilt of being alive, of being alone in the world. 'Should I try to talk to her?' he asked himself, as he weighed up the pros and cons of the deed, 'what the hell haven't got anything else to do.'

Cautiously he approach her, "Looks like you could use some company," he voiced lightly as he sat down opposite the woman, her emerald green eyes looking sharply at him, examining him, as he notice the light freckles on her cheeks.

"I don't need, or want your company stranger," she replied coldly, but it felt hallow, empty.

"Fine, I'll just sit here and drink my drink silently," he offered as he gestured for waitress to bring him another drink.

The next couple minutes passed in silence as the pair just sat there, before Garrett finally broke the silence. "My mother always told me a problem talked about is a problem halved, so what's eating you up?"

"Nothing is eating me up," she snapped back with slight slur, as she gulped down some more ale.

"Really, you're drinking ale like your dwarf," he announced, trying to lighten the mood with some light rumour, before he turned serious. "That means something is on your mind, something you wish to numb and forget about, and have taken to drinking to do it," as his brown eyes meet hers. "But we both know drink doesn't solve the problem, it just masks it, hides it for a couple hours before you finally full asleep drunk, and wake the next morning with same issues, but with smaller pouch on your hip, and with a headache for your troubles," as he took care free sip of the ale. "So tell me your woes, tell me what eating you up, maybe it will help."

"You first," she stated after several long minutes.

"I grew up in a village not far from here call Lothering," he offered, not feeling the need to share anymore since it was common knowledge that the village was now destroyed as her eyes sparkled with unexpected interest. Noticing her interest he decided to continue his story, but chose to edit the facts to hide the knowledge he was an apostate mage. "Me and my family had a good life, an honest one, we were happy with our lot. But then the darkspawn came, I managed to get my family out of the place, but we were separate during the journey to Redcliffe by dark spawn attack on the road. I just hope they are alive and well, and successfully managed to get ship to Kirkwall," he admitted.

"I was at Ostagar with the king's army," she offered before taking long sip of her drink.

He didn't feel the need to add anything, with the recent memories flashing across his mind, as he too took sip of his drink.

"Somehow I managed to escape that place, and found my way back to Lothering and my husband's warm loving arms," as small smile appeared on her features, before it quickly faded. "He severed as templar knight at the church, responsible for security and hunting apostate mages in the wilds," she slurred, before downing the last of her drink, as her words caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on ends, as he fought to stay composed.

He reminded himself that her husband was probably dead and was reason for her current condition, and that she had no idea he was apostate mage. He gestured for passing waitress to bring them another set of drinks, but this time a good strong wine. "He's dead isn't he? The dark spawn got him," he voiced whilst handing her the new mug of wine, which she enthusiastically down.

"No, the darkspawn didn't kill him," she stated, as he noted her eyes getting watery, misty, tell-tale sign of tears forming.

Handing her his own drink, knowing it would further loosen her tongue, "Tell me," he stated softy but forcefully, whilst placing a hand on top of her own in comforting gesture.

"He got infected with the _taint_,' she voiced quietly, her words becoming harder and harder to understand as wine and regret took it toil. "We came here looking for the cure, so my husband could take the oath and join the grey wardens, but we were too slow. I watched as the man I loved was consumed by the taint, his body becoming twisted and corrupted from within, before I was finally forced to kill himself myself, to end his suffering."

"It was the only thing you could do, you ended his suffering, ended his pain," he offered back, knowing his words were weak and feeble, but true none the less.

"I should have been stronger, I should have never allowed him to talk me into going into the dam wilds, we should have stay on the main road like everyone else," she stated, as tears flowed down her cheeks.

"You couldn't have known," he offered, as he lightly squeezed her hand, her damp eyes locking with his once again.

"That might be true," she reluctantly admitted, before she gave unlady like snort in amusement, a small smile on her lips, as she brushed away her tears her free hand. "Here I am spilling my tears, drinking another man's wine and I don't even know your name stranger."

Smiling softly back, "Hawke, Garrett Hawke," he offered.

"Aveline Vallen," she slurred back with a drunken smile.

"So Aveline, what are you going to do now? Are you going to continue to drink away your remaining coin in self piety? Or will you fight the darkspawn in your husband memory? To make them pay? To have revenge for them taking him from you," he asked the trouble woman.

"I don't know," she slurred back, looking back down into the wine mug.

He knew what need to be done, what his mother and father had always done when he was sulking, they gave him kick, a stern lecture, a challenge.

"Look at me Aveline," he commanded forcefully, causing Aveline to meet his eyes. "Enough sulking, I challenge you to fight the darkspawn, I challenge you to fight this curse bright, to honour your husband name and life. To take up that sword, and shield and be the warrior you are Aveline, fight the darkspawn and gain retribution for what was taken from you, or will you shame his memory, his life by sulking in tavern?" as anger sparked in her eyes.

'Good,' he mentally noted at sight of anger. Deciding to take a gamble, and ask her to come with him on his quest, even if she would slow him down. "I'm seeking out the grey warden myself, and plan on offering my own assistance, will you join me? Will you fight the blight to the bitter end?"

"Yes," Aveline muttered, but it lacked the resolve he wanted.

"Louder," he demanded.

"Yes, I'll fight the dam blight," Aveline declared trying to stand up fight, but falling over as her legs failed her due to much drink.

"Will you follow me?" Garrett asked.

"Yes!"

"Good," he gave a firm nod, "Now enough drinking, we need to prepare for our journey, do you have a room?" as her cheeks turned redder at the question.

"No, I spent most of my coin on ale," she muttered back shamefully, as she looked down into her empty mug reminding him of Bethany.

"That does not matter," he voiced as he got to his own feet. "You can share mine tonight," as she shot him an accusing look. Already being able to guess at what was going through her drunken head, "I'll sleep on floor. You will take the bed," he stated, as he moved to leave the wooden table.

"You coming? Or have you given up and quitted already?" he challenged, spurring the woman into action as she got to her wobbly feet, but failing to stand.

He watched as she tried to stand again, but failed to find her legs; taking piety on her he offered his own hand. "Here, let me help you," as his arm hocked under her own, steadying her, before gilding her out of the bar, back to his room two floors above.

**End of Chapter**

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